


you are a handful of roses

by paraphrase



Series: Olympic XXX Ficathon Fills [1]
Category: Olympics RPF, Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paraphrase/pseuds/paraphrase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Ryan's drunk and just wants to forget. And suck Nathan's cock. Implied Phlochte and Nathan/Matt if you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are a handful of roses

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've really written, so please be gentle with me <3\. This is a fill for this prompt from the XXX Ficathon: "after the speedo party, ryan is drunk and handsy and looking to get some ass. nathan is sober, responsible, and a little annoyed. but mostly just turned on, against his better judgement."

 "Fuck, Ryan...I...I don't think we should be doing this," he whispers breathily, uncertainty tingeing his voice. "What about...I thought you guys were..." He doesn't need to say who outloud. _Michael._ For as long as there's been Ryan, there's been Michael.

"He ain't here," Ryan says. "He ain't here." His words are softer that time, almost choked, and Nathan nods imperceptibly.

He saw the news articles on the internet, too, but Nathan knows that this is still a bad idea in the making. Even worse than that one time Cullen dared him to drink three shots each of Patron, Jager, and Grey Goose in quick succession during World's last year and ended up naked in bed with that guy on the French swim team. Ryan is drunk as fuck and if his reaction to the news from this morning was any indication, he is on his way to a spiral of self-destruction, Lochte style. This is monumentally bad. The worst idea in the history of all worst ideas, ever.

But Ryan presses against him, lips mere centimeters away from his ear, whispering obscene, dirty things, and fuck. Nathan's only human. He may not be in love with his friend, but Nathan's not blind or oblivious. Ryan Lochte is sex on legs, and it's hard to remember restraint and responsibility when Nathan feels Ryan's lips close around his neck, licking and sucking on a small patch of skin right under his ear. And then the fucker _bites_ – just a little, soft grazes of teeth on sensitive skin – and he kind of gets lost and starts to forget the one thousand reasons why he should put a stop to this.

"It's my birthday. You owe me a fucking present."

Nathan laughs a little. "I can just get you shoes, you know? Or a gift card. I'm pretty sure that's the standard for gift giving, not—," he flails his arms a little for emphasis, "—this."

Ryan trails his hands over Nathan's jeans, his thumbs hooking over the waistband. "Pfft, don't want shoes. Got a fuckton of them," he says, his words slurring. "Wanna suck your cock, bro. That's what I want for my gift."

Nathan wants to say something in protest, but Ryan is pulling him forward and forcing him to walk towards the bedroom he shares with Matt, and fuck, _blowjob_. Blowjob, man. He's a red-blooded American as any and he thinks it's all kinds of unfair that he's being subjected to this, because who the hell is capable of saying no to Ryan Lochte?

Ryan shuts the bedroom door behind them and pushes him back on his bed, yanking his jeans down and pulling them off his ankles in one fluid movement.

"Jesus, Ry, we need to st—" Nathan's words are cut off because Ryan's suddenly mouthing his cock through his boxers, and he can't really help but close his eyes and moan.

"I'm trying to suck you off here, dude," Ryan says, "So kindly please shut the fuck up."

Nathan generally prides himself for winning all of the retort-battles he has with Ryan, but his mind blanks and the sentences become jumbled in his brain. Ryan's freed his cock from the confines of his boxers and the only thing that really matters now is the feel of his friend's lips around the head of his dick.

Ryan takes a long lick, starting from the head all the way to the base of Nathan's cock and back up before clamping his mouth tight and sucking him off inch by inch. Nathan opens his eyes and watches as Ryan bobs his head up and down over his length, his fingers involuntarily tangling through Ryan's hair. He can feel Ryan's tongue laving long, firm strokes over the underside of his dick, and _fuck_ , Nathan lets out a strangled moan, because it's been a while since he's felt this good, and Ryan's amazing, and he's never seen a hotter sight than Ryan Lochte's lips wrapped around his cock in the twenty three years he's been alive on this earth.

Nathan starts to feel that familiar pressure build, and he's torn - he's not sure if he wants to let the sensations take over and come down Ryan's throat or stop because he'd rather not completely embarrass himself for his lack of self-control. He knows there's no way he's going to last long, though, when Ryan takes him in completely, almost choking on his dick. Nathan musters all the resolve he can, and pulls Ryan up, his hand snaking behind Ryan's head, forcing their lips together.

He bites Ryan's lower lip, his tongue coaxing his friend's lips open, as he runs his other hand down Ryan's stomach, edging lower and lower until his fingers rest over the zipper of Ryan's pants. Nathan hears Ryan whimper, and he kisses him harder. There are no traces of gentleness or tenderness in their kiss – just fire and almost violent lust. Nathan speeds up his movements, carelessly wrenching on the zipper until its open, and he tugs Ryan's already hard cock, his hands closing tightly around the length.

Ryan jerks away from the kiss, and starts to suck on Nathan's neck again, alternating between fevered licks and rough bites. Ryan grinds himself against Nathan, and Nathan whimpers as he feels the friction between their cocks.

"Fuck, Nathan...feels so good," Ryan says, his voice ragged and laboured. "Need to feel your cock inside me, man."

Nathan stills, his conscience flooding back. A blowjob is one thing, but fucking his drunk, pining friend...that's...that's different, and now he's really not sure if they should be doing this. "I don't know, Ry, maybe we should—"

Ryan's lips interrupt him, and suddenly, they're kissing again. It is gentler this time – but there is an underlying quiet sense of desperation that makes Nathan run his hands up and down gently over Ryan's back.

"Need you inside me," Ryan repeats. "Need to forget. Please, buddy."

"Forget what?" Nathan asks, even though he thinks he already knows the answer.

"Wanting too much. Wanting things I can't have."

Nathan looks at his friend and gets jolted by the flicker of blankness behind Ryan's eyes. _Fucking Phelps._ If he survives tonight, he's pretty sure the first thing he's going to do tomorrow morning is knock Michael's teeth out. Michael may be the greatest swimmer of all time, but he's also the greatest, dumbest douchebag of all time.

"I just need to forget. Even if it's just for one night," Ryan whispers. "You know how that feels right? To want things too much...to want things you know you can't have and shouldn't want?"

And the thing is, Nathan does understand. Nathan involuntarily glances at the empty bed across from them, and tries to fight the waves of regret and sadness that starts to roll at the pit of his stomach. Yeah, he definitely understands how it is to want something you can't have and shouldn't want.

So Nathan tears away Ryan's cardigan and shirt, grabs him close, and kisses him roughly. He clutches both of their cocks and rubs them against each other, as he pries Ryan's lips open with his tongue. Because maybe Ryan's not the only one who needs to forget. Even if it's just for one night.

 


End file.
